I think we are supposed to be up and about, getting ready to go to Wakulla but so far, the dogs and I are the only ones up.
Wakulla has been there for eons. I suppose it will still be there this afternoon.
It wasn't a good night. It's not a good night when you find yourself reading at three a.m.
Well. So what?
This is why coffee was invented. I guess I'll go pack a bag with towels and sunscreen. Go look for the little cooler. Put on a bathing suit. A bathing suit? Hell. I am at a neither-very-fat-nor-vaguely-thin place. My calves could cut stone, however. Well, Wakulla Springs is hardly populated by super models. It is like the watering hole where the lion takes refreshment next to the zebra. Where the hippo bathes next to the eland. It welcomes and forgives us all.
The chickens want out. I think I have lost my tiny rooster, Fancy. The heartbreak of chicken ownership never ends. The ferral cat appears to be living eternally, however. And dogs, of course, never die.
There may be a lesson there somewhere but I have no idea what it is.